


Us Against the World

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Mental Instability, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ivan Braginsky, code name Russia, meets his match in the mad hitman America. In a matter of days, his whole way of life is turned upside down, but he finds that he doesn’t mind the chaotic force that is Alfred Jones. This is an absolute farce. Read if you dare.





	Us Against the World

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone is a little unhinged in this

“What the hell is wrong with him?” the agent, Ivan Braginsky, asked in his native tongue. On the screen before him was what looked like a mad man. He’d somehow wrestled his arms free of the straight jacket and was darting around his cell, occasionally banging his head against some bars or laughing. He turned to the camera, hunching over as if aged.

“Ni hao!” his attempt at a Chinese accent was horrible, and he waved his long sleeves about.

The analyst next to the agent bristled. He may be working for the Russian government, but he was Chinese by birth. “Stupid Americans,” he muttered.

“Isn’t he one of England’s?” Ivan asked. “That makes him British.”

“Under the employ of the top British mercenary, sure. But he’s obviously American.”

“How is it obvious?”

“He’s racist.”

“So are you. And so am I.” Ivan raised a brow. “Aren’t you our senior analyst? I would hope not all your assumptions are as faulty.”

“And you’re just the hired gun, so shut up.”

Ivan ignored the disrespect. He and the man, Yao Wang, code name China, were on good terms. They rarely worked together, and perhaps that was why he didn’t want to strangle the man as often as he did the others.

“Yoo-hoo!” the British agent sang from his cell. “Is anyone coming to have fun with me anytime soon? I’m bored! Ivaaaaan!”

“How the hell does he know my name?”

“Good question. Wonder if his people all know it.”

“I’d be dead if they were that smart.”

“Maybe that’s why he was so easy to capture this time. Maybe they wanted him in close proximity to you. He’s been outwitting us for years, him and that damn British assassin. It’s a bit suspicious that we’d catch him with his pants down.”

“Stupid idea, if that’s true. And what do mean ‘with his pants down’?”

“He was taking out all of Romano’s enemies in a gentleman’s club in Moscow, or so he says. Idiots bought his stripper act. Shot them all in the head. Quite a sight. He took his time killing the other entertainers which is when we caught him, counting his rubles like it really was his job,” Yao laughed. “He had no reason to kill the rest, they wouldn’t have talked.”

“Typical of this hitman, isn’t it? All of his jobs have only one or two true targets, but all the bystanders are slaughtered. Even children, even babies. His own men have fallen to him. I’m not sure why they keep him around.”

“At least he’s efficient.”

“Excessive is the more appropriate word.”

“Braginsky! If you don’t get in here and torture me right now I’ll explode!” their prisoner cried out.

“It’ll be fun making him crack. I’m asking the usual, I assume?”

“Of course. Names, locations, targets. You got it.” With a nod, Ivan left the control room, entering the long hallway to the cells.

The insane hitman wasn’t their only prisoner. In the cell next to him was a young boy, the son of one of Ivan’s boss’s enemies, taken hostage only a month ago. The boy was crying. Ivan moved to shut the boy up with his favorite tool, a long metal pipe, but the hitman beat him to it.

He reached through his bars, gesturing the boy over.

“Hey, I won’t hurt you. You’re Peter aren’t you?”

The boy nodded, sniffling. He shuffled over, his shackles allowing him to be next to the man.

The older blonde rubbed his head. “Your mommy sent me to take care of you, little Peter.”

“Mama?” he smiled. “Are you going to get me out of here?”

Ivan chuckled at the scene. Who knew the man had a soft side?

“Of course, little guy. I got you now.” He placed his other hand through the bar, wiping away the boy’s tears. He shushed him softly.

There was a sharp crack. Ivan watched the boy’s body fall.

The blonde cackled. “Jesus Christ I thought he’d never shut up!”

Ivan sighed. His boss was going to be pissed that they’d allowed the boy to die. He was a good bargaining chip. “You’ve made my job much more difficult.” The other man was poking at the dead body, giggling. “Stop that.”

“Do you need help cutting him up? Sending the parts back to his mom will be your next step.”

“Da, but I will take care of it.” Ivan unlocked the man’s cell. He kicked him away from the boy. Alfred laughed as if being tickled.

“Did the boy’s mother really send you?”

“Ha!” another kick. “Dude, I’m gonna pee! Haha!” He wheezed from a harsh stomp to his chest. There were tears in his eyes but a wicked grin. “She did! Begged my boss to save her little boy. Went on and on about how precious he was to her. The woman barely even remembered his name. It was hilarious!”

“Mrs. Kirkland won’t believe us when we say her own man killed him.”

“I know! Isn’t it hilarious? Not my orders, of course. But I don’t follow those a lot.”

“Did you get caught on purpose?”

“Hell yeah. And I’m so glad I did!” He eyed Ivan hungrily. “Damn, you want some fries with that shake?”

“What does that mean?”

“Listen, dude. Ivan, or whatever—”

“How do you know my name?”

“I do my listening,” the room shook. Ivan started, the explosion had been close. “Ah, and that must be my talker.”

“Fuck.”

“Hey take me on a date first!”

“What?”

“Call me old-fashioned.” His enemy withdrew a gun then a knife from his waistband.

“How the hell did you get those past my men?”

“It was only one man, and he’s getting fucked by my boss. I believe he’s in pieces right now, though.”

“Your boss? With Hong?” Ivan used the man’s code name, Hong Kong. He could’ve sworn he was “with” Yao. Ivan always thought it historically apt. Unsurprisingly, due to his nationality, they called him Russia.

“Yup, England’s all up in there. Funny, huh? Just like world history!” he laughed.

“You talk a lot of your operations for a top agent. I assume you will kill me, then?”

“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see. You’re kinda cute, I’d feel bad.”

“You have feelings?”

“On occasions. Anyway, care to unlock the door and let me out? Before I shoot you and take the key for myself?”

Ivan weighed his odds. He only had a few tools on his person, and the other man had a gun. He kept his distance, too, so Ivan couldn’t pounce without the other man getting his shot off. But, if he was taken upstairs to where the other’s men were waiting, surely he’d have less of a chance. Perhaps this man was off his rocker enough that he’d let his guard down, however.

There was a bang, and Ivan felt his hair twitch as a bullet passed by his ear.

“Quit yer dawdling, cowboy, let’s get this show on the road!”

Ivan complied, unlocking the door. He walked out first. There was another shot, with his back to the shooter he saw the bullet embed itself into the wall.

“Oops. Be a dear and pick up the kid, would you?”

And so, Ivan led the trio to the control room. There he saw Yao tied up and unconscious. The man was never that great for fighting, anyway. Japan, another agent, was also being held at bay by a man with a gun, this one looking a lot like Ivan’s captor but with longer hair and eyes like Ivan’s.

“Bloody fucking… you let the boy die, America? You had one fucking job. This is why we don’t let you in on missions requiring more than killing!”

The agent, apparently named America, pouted. “But England! I did the thing! I got inside and waited for your boyfriend to take care of things! Not my fault some insane brute snapped the kids neck!”

England glared at Ivan. “This must be the torturer and gunman, Russia, right?”

He waved. “Da, hello.”

“Don’t 'hello’ me! You killed my fucking nephew!”

America gasped. “Oh, this was your nephew?” he laughed. “That’s hilarious. I killed him, actually!”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

“Yeah, he was really annoying. And those ugly eyebrows! I see now that it runs in the family.”

“You know what, I don’t even care about him. But I’ll remember this in your performance review. How you wound up being the best the President had to send overseas is beyond me. Damn yanks with your crazy gun-clinging habits.”

America pushed Ivan forward to be next to Kiku, AKA Japan. With the brief touch, he’d stripped him of his pipe and various knives, tossing them aside carelessly. He stood beside England, whose eyes would dart between his watch and the room.

“Sooo…” America was rocking back and forth on his feet. “Now that Mr. Hong Kong has been sufficiently blown up from the inside, wanna give 'us’ another go?”

“For the last time, you can’t call it 'another go’ when there was never an original go-around!”

“But, you raised me! I jerked off to you every night during my boyhood!”

“That doesn’t entail a relationship and that is still too much information.”

He huffed. “Whatever. Like I’d want you anyway. All your boyfriends end up dead.”

“They do not!”

“You drugged your last one and planted a bomb inside him and convinced him to let me in his base armed!”

“That’s an exception not a rule.”

“Why are we waiting here, anyway?”

“Well, France is supposed to be here to extract the enemy agents. He was also supposed to pick up Peter, too, but since you fucked—”

There was a second large boom and the armored door swung open.

“Bloody hell, France, you could’ve knocked—” England froze. “Don Romano? What are you doing here?”

The Italian, head of the Mafia—you know, The Mafia—immediately pounced on America, scratching at the hitman’s face. He drew blood, but America only laughed.

“You idiot!” he spat, pushing himself up. “England! I was told your man was the best!”

“Er, he’s alright. I’m not sure who told you he was the 'best’. He’s a bit of a mess. What’d he do now?”

“He killed my men!”

America sat up on his elbows. “Huh? No, I killed the Russian mafia guys!”

“Idiota! I have video evidence! You got the wrong ones! I sent you to Moscow to kill my enemies and you killed my allies!”

“Coulda fooled me!”

“I saw you speak Italian to them, you confirmed the actual spot where the Russian scum were hiding! But you shot up my shop anyway!”

He shrugged. “Hey, it was quite confusing!”

“Spain, kill him!” The man’s bodyguard stepped forward, wielding a battle-axe of all things.

“Hold it! Don Romano, this is all a misunderstanding!”

“Shut it! Your incompetent agency needs to pay for this!”

“Don’t hurt Canada and I, just kill America. He’s the idiot who always screws up the missions!”

“I do not!”

“Remember Dubai?”

“I didn’t know camels could stampede!”

“9/11?”

“That was all Bush, man!”

“You collapsed a bridge just last week!”

“It was the aliens, dude!”

“Jesus,” England slapped his forehead. “You know what, I’m sick of dealing with you. You’re fired, alright! I’m done protecting you and your mistakes!”

“But…” America crawled on his knees toward England. He withdrew a small, velvet box from his pocket. “I was going to propose on this trip!”

“We’re not together!”

“Fine!” he turned to Romano, pointing his gun at the other’s head. Spain tensed. “Wanna hire me?”

“Fat chance!”

“Well that’s quite alright! Because the truth is…” He jumped back, capturing the quieter of the agents in his arms. He pressed the gun to his forehead. “I’ve been planning a coup all this time! Haha! You see, you thought this ambush was all there was to it, but now we’ve got the second ambush, and finally, the third! It is time for America to break free of England’s control, and Canada’s coming with me!”

“Sorry, America, I don’t really want to go. I like being with England—”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying, the time has come for me to become an independent agent! That’s right, bitches!” He turned toward Ivan. “Ivan, babe, come with me. We can rule the spy game together.”

“You are not seeming like good partner to get involved with,” Ivan responded.

“He’s literally insane,” England sighed.

“How he’s even lived this long is beyond me!” Romano yelled.

“Shut up!” Keeping a tight grip on Matthew, he held up a knife; bringing it down, the room readied themselves for a cry from Canada. Instead, America moaned. He had stabbed his side, tearing a large gash in his side. He slumped down, releasing his near-twin who bounded over to England’s side.

“Let’s set him on fire,” the other blonde suggested.

“Good idea, lad,” England nodded.

America chuckled darkly. He thrust his hand inside the wound, eyes fluttering shut at the movement. After a few seconds of clumsy fumbling, his hand clenched around an object, which he pulled out.

“Haha! Now I’ve got you!”

“America…” England paled. “Is that…?”

“You bet yer sweet, British ass it is. Living Hell Fire, as a grenade. If y'all kill me, we’ll be sharing an elevator ride to heaven, that’s for sure. And I won’t put in a good word for you when we get to those Pearly Gates!”

He stood, weak from the blood loss but glaring defiantly.

Romano put an arm in front of Spain. “Fine, we’ll leave you be for now. But if you ever cross paths with the Mafia again, you’re dead, agent. You’re on my list.” The pair fled.

“I’m also over this. America, you’re still fired. You’re still batshit crazy. And we’re still not together.”

“But, Englaaaand! We shared such a beautiful night together!”

“You molesting me when I was piss drunk means nothing. Come along, Canada. We need to figure out what the hell happened to France and if he’s the one who leaked our location to Spain.”

So America and Ivan were alone. Well, Japan was also there but he had long since passed out from a nasty head wound and Yao was still asleep.

America pulled the pin off the grenade, turning to Ivan. He offered the circular pin with ceremony.

“Ivan Braginsky, will you do me the honor of being my spy-husband?”

“Are you insane, throw that grenade down the hall or something!” his eyes widened.

“Answer the fucking question!”

“Nyet!”

“Is that Russia for, 'yes sweet cheeks I’ll marry you and pound your asshole so good tonight’?”

“Nyet!”

America blushed. “Damn, Ivan, getting me all hot and bothered! Don’t have to tell me twice!” He complied with Ivan’s orders, chucking the grenade down the hall. It bounced down the stairs before exploding.

“We still should skedaddle. That shit can burn through everything. I’ll grab the tiny Asian!” America froze on seeing the two, tiny Asians. “Fuck, what do I do?”

“You idiot! Grab the one with the short hair!”

“Yes, my loving fiance!”

Heat started radiating from the door, so they retreated from the building, each carrying an agent. America led Ivan through a series of alleyways, finally entering what seemed to be an abandoned apartment complex. Ivan was panting at the exertion, he wasn’t used to running. Most of his jobs were rather sedentary, either torturing victims in a nice cell or waiting on roof tops and taking out various heads of heads of states. It was invigorating as much as it was annoying, this whole situation. But, perhaps he wouldn’t mind getting involved in some fieldwork with America. His life had become too predictable with Yao’s unit. Perhaps now he would have more of a reason to get up every morning.

“Where are we going?” Ivan asked.

“My place. I’ve been camped out here for a week or so,” America explained. He withdrew a key, unlocking the door. Ivan couldn’t help but notice that the top half of the door was removed. Still, America kept up his routine and opened the door calmly.

Ivan’s head was finally catching up to the situation. “Wait, won’t England know that—”

“Ah, welcome back, America.” The British voice was much calmer. “Glad you didn’t singe your lovely face.”

“What is—” Ivan felt a sharp hit to the back of his head, and he fell forward. Poor Yao was being crushed under his body.

America cackled, throwing Japan on top of Ivan. “Surprise! I’m a double-crosser!”

“I think he gets it, America,” Canada sighed, sipping at his tea. The inside of the house was surprisingly well kept. England and Canada were settled around a table in the dining room, a kettle placed between them. Canada had a shotgun aimed at Ivan.

America skipped toward England, plopping down on his lap. “Did you miss me, daddy?”

“Of course, but please don’t call me that in public.”

“Why? I know you like letting people watch,” America cooed, nuzzling England’s cheek.

“I am… confused,” Ivan confessed.

“Yes, of course. Well, our goal was actually to capture your unit and destroy your base. We needed someone to get captured, and America was the most expenda—I mean, experienced. Plus, Romano’s men were blocking our operations in Russia ever since Spain started spending time with France. I swear, those two plus Prussia have no discretion! We needed America to burn his bridge with the Don and appear to do the same with us. This way, we’d have an in with him and America could make his move whenever we chose. And, my sister hated her son and had no intention of paying your demands but didn’t want to look bad to the public, so we had to kill him. All in all, I’d say we succeeded, wouldn’t you boys?”

“Most definitely, daddy!” America said, excited.

“Oui, papa,” Canada agreed.

“And so now what will you do with us three?” Ivan asked.

“Why, offer you to the highest bidder, of course. Our organizations have not often conflicted, so we have no ill will toward you. However, I understand that you’ve made quite a few enemies in your time.” there was slight buzz, and England glanced at his phone. “How boring, Japan’s been bought up by our German friend. Romano must’ve told his brother Italy. Those three are thick as thieves, so I doubt anything will happen to him.”

Ivan sighed. Today was just not his lucky day. And here he’d thought things were looking up. “So, the hatred was an act? You two are together?”

America beamed. “Ever since he first molested me as a child, yup!”

“Don’t put it like that! I may be many things, but I’m no rapist or pedophile!”

“Whatever. Why do you care, Ivan?” America’s blue eyes sparked with interest. Perhaps Ivan could turn things around.

“Oh,” he sighed longingly. “I had only hoped your words were true. I’ve been so lonely here. So cold. A sunflower such as yourself would surely warm me.”

America gasped. Within seconds he was at Ivan’s side, clutching at his shirt. “Do ya really mean it?”

“Come back over here, America, he’s just trying to play you,” England pulled out his phone, glancing at the influx of offers he was receiving. Turns out, everyone hated Russia and wanted to break him. Go figure.

America looked into Ivan’s eyes. Madness met desperation met love met loneliness. Neither knew who felt which.

“Nyet,” America said. He rose quickly, pulling out two guns. They were trained on his comrades.

England sighed. “It’ll be your funeral, lad. We won’t stop you. We’ll see how long it takes before one of you kills the other.”

“This is why I’m leaving you! Why wouldn’t you try to stop me?”

“Because you’re insane.”

“I love you!”

“Proof of insanity.”

“I was serious about marrying you.”

“I was serious about the rejection.”

“Er, is this another set-up?” Ivan asked.

Canada shrugged. “Who knows? The break-up was inevitable, anyway.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked Hong Kong, too!”

“It was the mission!”

“I never cheated on you during my missions!”

“I know, that’s why some of them failed. You’d usually end up killing your marks instead of seducing them!”

“And I know you’re sleeping with France!”

“That’s just a rumor.”

“It’s pretty true, eh.”

“Shut up, Canada!”

“Sorry.”

“I knew it! Well, no matter, we’re through! For reals! And I’ll make sure to give you hell from now on. Ivan and I will stop at nothing to make sure your missions all fail!”

England waved a hand. “Well, see you later then.”

America’s eyes overflowed with tears. “Fine! Goodbye!” He grabbed Ivan’s hand, dragging him up and out of the house. Their backs were to Canada, but he chose not to shoot. It was his brother, after all. He also knew there was probably some kind of explosive or other on his person.

After a few minutes of angry stomping, the odd pair was at a restaurant. America somehow hadn’t bled out, and Ivan, also in poor shape judging from the dried blood at the back of his head, was lost.

“So, we are team now, da?”

“Yup, it’ll be great! We can steal all of England’s missions from under his nose, and maybe we can take out the Mafia. Surely you’ve got some enemies you’d like to take out?”

“Da, and one of them is in front of me,” Ivan leaned forward, trying to be intimidating. America smirked. He tossed Ivan his second gun.

“Do it, then. I don’t care.”

Ivan was quick to place the barrel to America’s head. The other didn’t even flinch, though his eyes clouded over slightly. He let out a breathy moan.

Ivan rolled his eyes. “Ah, so you’re a masochist. Makes sense. Well, I won’t give you the satisfaction of that.” He spun the gun around his finger and pocketed it. America did the same with his.

“It’s more than that, I assure you. Anyway, you hungry? I kinda feel like killing everyone in this store.”

“Let’s eat first, then we can do the killing.”

America jumped over the table, capturing Ivan in a hug. “Wow! You’re so much better than England! He’d be all like 'have some manners!’ or 'stop disemboweling the man, just kill him already’!”

Ivan smiled. It’d been a while since he’d met someone not as squeamish about pain. He’d always been numb to the suffering of others, thus it was easy for him to inflict such pain. America seemed much the same way, though admittedly more outwardly unhinged.

After enjoying some soup and pasta, they began. Wanting to keep quiet, they stuck to knives and blows instead of their guns.

America eyed the bill, tsking at the expense. He pulled some rubles out of his pocket—crumpled, blood-covered bills he’d earned from his little show. Throwing a generous tip on the dead waitress—America had taken his time with her, pressing in her pretty, green eyes that reminded him too much of England till her skull cracked: it had taken a lot more effort than that episode of Game of Thrones had implied!—he led Ivan out.

He’d grabbed some pie to-go which he was now shoveling into his mouth.

“You have something on your cheek,” Ivan said.

America rubbed at it, eyeing the red liquid. He lapped it up. “Mmmm. Take a guess, was it blood or cherry sauce?”

“Cherry?”

“Sweeter,” Alfred hinted.

“Ah, the blood.”

“You got it, big guy! Alright, so, we need to find a place to stay where England and Romano can’t find us. Where to?”

“I have a friend, he’s part of the Baltics, but he’ll help me. He has no choice. We can hide out there and plan our next move.”

“Sweet. You down to take out Romano first?”

“Nyet, let us start by taking England’s missions. Maybe then Romano will come to us directly for his revenge.”

“Good idea. And what about you?”

“What?”

“Well, this is a co-ownership. What are your goals?”

“I have none. I have always been in this for the money.”

“Really? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course. The killing and the maiming are fun.”

“Perfect! 'Cause for a while it may be just killing and maiming. I have my own little nest egg we can tap into, but we won’t have any constant income till we get our first job.”

“It is no problem.”

“I was never in it for the money, you know.”

“I figured,” Ivan replied.

“How so?”

“You enjoy the killing too. It is all you have known, yes?”

“You got it.”

“You and I are much the same. I was raised like this by my father. KGB he was, wanted to me kill all of the Soviet Union’s enemies. Especially stupid Americans.”

“I didn’t know my parents. Ma—Canada and I, we’re brothers. We got shuffled through tons of foster homes before getting adopted by some agency. We were trained to be nothing more than killers. Canada found a nice home eventually at an agency in France. Their operations were more covert. I was pushed to the front lines of American wars and diplomatic endeavors. I killed more than I spoke. My transfer to the English unit kind of brought me down to Earth. England taught me things the others hadn’t, how to interact with others, how to comfort, how to love and all that shit. Canada soon joined us, and it was great for a while,” he seemed sad, but then he immediately perked up. “Boring as hell, I say! I always liked things being a bit chaotic, don’t you?”

“Da.”

“You’re easy to talk to! Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Usually they say the opposite. Do you ever shut up?”

“Only when I’m eating, and usually not even then.” He tugged on Ivan’s sleeves. “Ooh, Americans!” he darted over toward a lovely couple who seemed to be taking a selfie. Ivan calmly walked over, hearing America’s shitty attempt at Russian.

“Oh yes, we speak English! What are you looking for?”

America smiled. He hugged the two. “Oh thank god, everyone here is so mean! My friend and I are looking for…” he flashed them the keycard he’d swiped from the woman’s pocket. “This place! I can’t read the letters.”

“Hey, that’s our hotel! You can join us for our walk back, if you’d like.”

“That’d be swell!” America grabbed Ivan’s arm. “This is my boyfriend, Ivan, by the way. I’m Alfred.”

“Hello!” Ivan managed to sound as American as he possibly could. The couple bought it.

“Pleased to meet you both! My wife and I are here on our honeymoon!”

“That’s so sweet!” “Alfred” gushed. “Why Moscow, of all places?”

“We were just curious!”

The three carried on their babbling for a while, America making sure to find out the pair’s room number and the location of the hotel. They agreed to stop for a smoke-break in an alley, which is where they met their end. Alfred switched clothes with the man as he was closer to him in size. He suggested Ivan try on the woman’s silk number, for which he received a smack and a withering glare. After taking their rubles and the second room key, they tossed the bodies down a ditch. Ivan assured the other they wouldn’t be found for a few days, as no police roamed this seedier part of town. Besides, who would care about Americans in his land?

Eventually they were settled into the nice couple’s room. America ordered up champagne and all matter of expensive foods, charging it to the room. They enjoyed warm showers separately and managed to find Ivan a change of clothes. They retired to the single bed, both mature enough to realize it was the most practical solution.

“Ivan,” America whined.

“What?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“That sounds like personal problem.”

“Do you want to fuck?”

He sighed. “If that will make you shut up, then alright.”

“Okay.” He nestled deeper into his pillows. Ivan waited.

“Well?” he said, now a bit annoyed.

“What?”

“Are we fucking or no?”

America gasped. “Ivan! What kind of man do you take me for? I just broke up with my lover and you make a pass at me!”

“You suggested it!”

“I merely asked if you wanted to fuck! So now I know you’re thirsty for me!”

Ivan groaned. “You’re very annoying.”

“Hello very annoying, my name is Alfred. Wait, that’s not how it goes…”

“Is that your real name?”

“It is. I guess it’s only fair you know since I know yours. Alfred F. Jones! Not that it’ll do you any good to know, my civilian life is so far removed from me. Just like yours. Ivan Braginsky hardly even exists. You’re just Russia.”

Ivan only nodded. Alfred… what a strange name. “Will you be able to kill England if you have to?”

“Oh of course. But I want him to watch his empire fall at my hand first. After only a few months of service, he’d somehow gained the head agent position. It’s no fair, I was a senior member! The damn boss said I was too insane. I showed him.”

“How?”

“Cut off his dick and choked him with it.”

“How had you not been fired before?”

“England always took care of me. Babied me too much, though. Besides, the new boss thought it was funny and took a liking to me.”

“So, you’ve really been with no one but England?”

“Yup! I would never do such a thing before marriage!”

“I see. So you are married to him?”

“No.”

“Ah, no wonder he cheated. You withheld from him that which a man wants most.”

“We did other things, I’ll have you know.”

“Nyet, it does not matter. Everyone wants to become one, da?”

“Well if he liked it then he shoulda put a ring on it!” he pouted. “Anyway, I’m going to sleep. Nighty night, don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Ivan shot up at a slight pinch to his posterior. Alfred giggled.

“You are a child.”

“Yeah, a child you wanna fuck.”

“Shut up.”

“He said to the child he wants to fuck.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four! So, not technically a child, but, you know. And you?”

“Forty-six.”

Alfred whistled. “Damn, you’re old. That’s impressive, though, that you’ve made it through the game this long. Every time I wake up I assume it’ll be the day I die.”

“You should always assume you will win. It is how I win all the time.”

“I think I won today, don’t you?”

“Really? You got fired twice, dumped, also twice, and now you’re in bed with a monster, one whose whole being tells him to kill you.”

“Then do it,” he smirked. “I won’t scream too loud.”

In half a second, Ivan was on top of the other, pinning the much smaller arms in one hand while his other hand ghosted over Alfred’s neck.

“Mmm… see, now this is why I’d say I won. Here I am in bed with the most desirable Russian hitman known to me, the legendary Ivan Braginsky, slayer of nobles and proletariat alike. You don’t discriminate in your cruelty. I respect that. I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time. And now you’re in the clutches of a real monster.”

“You seem to have an inaccurate grasp on the situation.”

“You seem to have a bitch-ass grasp on my throat. Commit, man.”

“How long have you been watching me?”

“I’ve followed your work for years, since I started my training. You’re my idol, Ivan. Your techniques are impeccable. I could never hope to be as amazing as you, but I try.”

“You… know of my work?”

“Of course! I know everything about you! Well, everything factual. I know your hits, your failures—though those are few—your family…”

Ivan pressed down, crushing the other’s windpipe. Alfred bucked up at the contact, fighting a groan that couldn’t escape his mouth. “Do not ever speak of my family. What do you know?”

He released some pressure, allowing Alfred to suck in a breath. “Yekaterina, hiding in Ukraine. Natalya in Belarus. You killed your parents, let them escape. You think you’re a monster, Ivan, but you’re a hero. Your money, all sent to them. They have normal, happy lives because of you. Aren’t you proud?”

“How did you know this? Do others know?”

“No, just me. And like I said before, I listen.”

“I should kill you for this. No one was to know of them.”

“Well, you’ve sufficiently killed the mood, so why not me next?”

“You’re twisted.”

“I’m also quite flexible if you’d like to test me out.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’ve been dreaming of this day since I was sixteen. I read your files every night. All this shit today, all worked out for me in the end.”

“Don’t tell me you facilitated all this?”

“Of course not! It was lucky, though, how it happened. I 'messed up’, or whatever, with the Italians, got us away from England and Canada, got rid of my competition in the form of your little unit, and now here we are in a beautiful, honeymoon suite.”

“You truly want me? All of me?”

“Well, the sex will be a plus, I’m sure, but yes. I want to be by your side. I want to watch you kill, want you to watch me. Hell, when the time comes, if anyone else is scalping me other than you, my whole life will have meant nothing.”

Ivan withdrew a knife. He slashed at Alfred’s chest. He howled with pleasure.

“Holy shit, that’s nice!” When Ivan licked at the bloodied knife, Alfred nearly came undone.

“You shameless slut, you could probably come just from getting cut and bruised, couldn’t you?” He leaned forward, biting down at Alfred’s neck and drawing blood. He lapped it up hungrily.

“The insults… ah… are nice, too.” Ivan rolled his eyes. Why could he never find a normal lover? All everyone wanted was for him to hurt them. Sure, he was good at it. But it wasn’t normal. He may be a torturer by trade, but in real relationships, that wasn’t how things should play out. This Alfred boy was clearly delusional. Ivan would be smart to kill him—didn’t the boy want that in the end, anyway?

Still, the other was strong. He was smart, resourceful. Together, they could be quite a threat in the international ring. He assumed he could control the younger since he was so infatuated, in fact, he knew he could. He had lived this long for a reason, and he wouldn’t let some green, idiot American endanger him in any way.

If he only knew.

The wild foreplay lasted all of fifteen minutes before Alfred pushed the larger man off him with surprising strength—he clearly could’ve resisted the painful ministrations at any point, it seemed.

“Hey, can we get married?”

“Alfred, it is two in the morning. We are two men in Moscow. We cannot get married either here or now.”

He stuck out his lower lip, bruised and slightly bloody. “Well then, you can sleep on the couch. We’re not doing anything more until we do!”

“Are you fucking serious? You’re a tease, and a slut.”

“I can’t be a slut! I’m pure of heart!”

“That’s ridiculous.”

As ridiculous as the young man was, Ivan still found himself next to him on a red-eye flight to Las Vegas, of all places. Their hotel had a gaudy chapel and a slightly drunk preacher who was more than happy to wed the pair. He was hard to convince at first, however, what without either of them having legitimate documentation. Alfred’s not-so-concealed gun was quite persuasive in that regard.

They came together with little grace or regard for the cheap furniture. Somewhere amidst the stripping and bumbling, Alfred had managed to shower them both with champagne. There was even chocolate sauce mixed in—Ivan was amazed the boy’s wounds hadn’t become infected. He brushed it off, attributing it to some genetic manipulation he’d received in the past courtesy of the U.S. government. Ivan couldn’t tell if he was joking, but when that mouth that never stopped spewing bullshit directed its attention elsewhere, he didn’t care too much.

It was rough and sloppy, but both were satisfied in the end. Ivan would’ve like it gentler, and Alfred the opposite. After their fourth round, Alfred deemed himself too exhausted to continue, for which Ivan sent up prayers of thanksgiving. He was far from young, and while the blond excited him enough, he was still almost twice his age. His aching body begged for rest.

“I’m gonna take a shower. No joining me. Unless, of course, you want to. I wouldn’t deny my husband,” he shimmied away from the bed with a wink. Ivan waved his arm. Minutes later, Alfred was back, re-dirtying his cleaned skin by jumping on the bed.

Ivan sat up with a grunt. He rolled over the bed, grabbing a small bundle from his bag.

“Here,” he pulled the blond to his lap. “I will bind your wounds, da?” His fingers pressed against Alfred’s skin gently, massaging with barely a hint of pressure at the unbruised areas.

“What?” Alfred squirmed against his back. “Stop, you’re hurting me!”

Ivan raised a brow. He removed his hands, only to rub some antibacterial cream between them, warming it before applying it to the wounds. Alfred hissed.

“This is not supposed to sting, what is wrong?” He turned Alfred’s face toward him, brushing aside still wet hair. His fingertips stroked at the cheeks.

Alfred whimpered, tears threatening to spill over. It wasn’t like the crocodile tears Ivan had seen earlier that day.

“Sunflower, why are you crying? Are you in pain?” He pulled the other close, whispering in his ear. “Please, do not be sad. I had thought you liked the treatment. I will be nicer, alright?”

Alfred was bawling now, twisting his head back and forth. “Stop that! Don’t be nice to me!”

Ivan froze. “What?”

“Don't… don’t take care of me! Don’t touch me softly, don’t compliment me!”

“Why wouldn’t I do that? We are married, da? We are partners, so we must look out for each other. I do not love you, I’ll admit, but I know you are beautiful, and your mind is just perfectly suited for me.”

A hand met Ivan’s cheek. “I told you to stop! You’re hurting me!” Alfred pushed back, curling in on himself on top of his pillow. Ivan was clueless as to what to do.

“Alfred. Please, talk to me. Why are you like this?” his tone was harsh. Alfred took better to the sound.

Alfred turned, “I don’t know, okay. I like pain, and that’s it. It hurts when people are nice to me. England was great, he was always so mean and belittling. Canada was also rude. He could insult me for hours on end, it always brightened my day,” he smiled. “It was nice when you called me crazy, or a slut. It’s all true. But, beautiful? Perfect? I don’t like liars. I see the biggest one on earth every time I look in the mirror.”

“Fredka, I cannot be rough with you all the time, do you understand? I deal with liars often, it is my job to figure out the truths. I know I am no liar, and if you think I am, I am disappointed. You are beautiful, you are not pathetic. You are insane, sure, but that is no bad thing. I am insane too. All of us agents are. How else could we betray old bosses so quickly, alternating between helping the government and fighting it in a matter of hours for pay? You have your morals, twisted as they are, but they’re there. Will you let me help you to see this?”

Alfred only tensed with each compliment. But at the close, he nodded, a motion nearly imperceptible to the other. Ivan’s eyes were sharp, however, so he caught it.

“Let me help your body first, alright?” Alfred’s back was open to him, so he applied the creams lightly, cooing over the scars like a protective parent. Bandages were next, breathable so he could heal in the night but protecting the cuts from dirt and grease. Likewise, Ivan promised to protect him from any and all threats. Alfred cried out at the treatment, even more so at the words.

It was one thing to be used to pain, another to enjoy it; but, to be so damaged and resistant to pain that acts that were universally seen as pleasurable brought him suffering… that was unheard of. Ivan knew his own upbringing was cruel, disgusting at times. But, even he could see that this boy had been through more. It was the only explanation for his behavior. It was the agency who brought him up who drove him to his lunacy, drove him to this inversion of perceptions.

“It is okay, Alfred. I will take care of you. I will teach you the proper ways to love.”

Alfred was still wary the next day, flinching slightly when Ivan reached across the table at breakfast with a sunny grin to grab his hand.

“I will hurt you sometimes, Alfred, but only in the bedroom. Everywhere else, I will be a proper husband, da? You treat me nicely, don’t hurt me. Why can I not do the same?”

“It’s different! You’re Ivan, I’m just Alfred, the monster. I’m no good at what I do, everyone thinks I’m useless.”

“You cannot be both alive and useless in our line of work, surely you see that?”

He shifted, mind working harder than he was used to. Ivan sighed. He should’ve known a few nice comments couldn’t undo years of abuse. Still, he was persistent, that much he was sure of.

He continued. “What would you like to do today? Shall we spend honeymoon on vacation? Or do you want to get to work?”

Alfred’s grin returned. “We can do both! I happen to know that France will be here later today to meet with Prussia and Spain. They don’t meet at the Bellagio till dinner time, so until then we can enjoy the sights. Or…” he batted his eyelashes. “We could go back to the room. Play around some more,” his foot stroked up Ivan’s leg.

Ivan resisted his urges. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to save this odd creature. If he gave in and just hurt the boy some more for both of their pleasure, it would be backtracking.

“Nyet—that means 'no’, if you haven’t figured it out by now. We can look around the city. I know some Russian mafia men in the town that will be happy to recommend things to us.”

“Ah, then it’s a good thing I didn’t kill their friends in Moscow! Alternatively, we could walk into Don Romano’s casino and ruffle his feathers a bit.”

“Wouldn’t Spain take us out if he’s in town?”

“His flight is much later. We’d be safe enough, unless the lackeys take us out, which would never happen.”

“How do you know all this? We have no phones, and you didn’t leave the room last night. Where do you get your information?”

Alfred tapped against his head. “You should do some of this 'listening’ thing. My man Tony keeps me informed.”

“Tony?” he raised a brow.

“Don’t be jealous, he’s not my man in that way. He’s an alien. See, I used to wear foil, but once I stopped, his voice came through. Ever since, he keys me in on little details. It’s all in binary, which is a pain 'cause I had to learn it.”

Ivan blinked. Curse his luck, curse his career choice, and curse his marriage. Here he thought Alfred was abused to the point of insanity. More likely than not, he was just born insane. “An alien?”

Alfred’s laugh was boisterous. “No, don’t be silly! I was just kidding! Tony’s my all-knowing contact. There’s a chip in my head. He talks to me, that’s true. But, I don’t know who he works for. He likes you, though. He was the first one to show me your files. There’s only, like, a fifty-five percent chance that he’s an alien.”

After a few more minutes’ talk of conspiracies and aliens—Alfred swore he was raised in Area 51—the pair parted for their first casino of the day. Where their hotel was cheap and tacky, the Don’s was elegant and glamorous. Their reflections were evident in nearly every surface, be it marble or gold. Alfred spent a long time turning this way and that, checking himself out in his new, tailored suit.

“You look lovely, Fredka, what are you looking for?”

He frowned, wincing slightly. “Shut up, I’m fat.”

“I spent many hours appreciating your body, dear husband, and there was no indication of you being fat. You are very fit and strong.”

“Shut up,” Alfred’s brow was tense, but his cheeks held a healthy dusting of pink.

Before long they were in the back rooms. They both settled into some well-cushioned chairs in front of a mini stage with a pole. Despite the early hour, patrons were already enjoying the performances, sipping on cocktails and smoking cigars. It seemed as if some of the men had been there all night long.

Several women attempted to entertain the new guests, but Alfred’s glares prevented them from getting too close except to deliver some drinks.

“Hey, I’ve gotta take a piss, I’ll be right back,” Alfred said between sips.

“Charming. Very well. Don’t be too long. The men are growing suspicious of our presence. You really should let us look less conspicuous.”

Alfred rolled his eyes and trotted to the restroom. Two men, he recognized them as his marks, were chatting while at the urinals. There was plenty of room, but Alfred chose the stall in between them.

“Howdy partners. Lovely morning for women, isn’t it? Yum, I sure love vagina. Is that what straight guys talk about? Pussy and dick, together. Yay.”

The men exchanged annoyed glances. One moved to withdraw a weapon.

Alfred was quicker, not surprisingly. England always did say he was too quick to draw—he had assumed it was a compliment. That type of skill was vital in the wild wild west!

He timed his shots to the beat drops, humming and shaking his hips all the while. He attempted to flip the gun and pocket it in a cool manner, but only managed to drop it. An extra shot rang through the room, cracking the ceramic urinal and springing a slight leak.

“Oops!” he said. Cackling, he kicked the bodies aside, stepping carefully over the blood. He didn’t mind that his suit was covered in it, he knew how to get blood out of cotton. But suede? He had to work hard to keep those shoes clean.

In the bathroom he was seeing red on the walls and tile, but back in the showroom, the color filled his eyes in a different way.

There, across the room, his brand, spanking-new husband and business partner was being felt up by some floozy! Alfred gasped, unheard over the booming music. His steps were equally quiet. Worst of all, Ivan seemed very intent on stroking the woman’s waist as if he’d never touched another’s skin before. He didn’t even notice Alfred right behind her.

Not until her throat opened up in front of him.

“Who the fuck is this?” Alfred asked. The stripper sputtered, blood pouring out of the gaping hole in her neck. Alfred yanked her back by the hair, her neck falling into a sickening angle when she was flung to the ground. Ivan too was seeing red, as her blood had spurted all over his chest and face.

“I believe her name was Lucy.”

“And why the hell did you let her dance with you?”

“Because we are at a gentlemen’s club, attempting to kill Romano’s men. We need to blend in.”

“I’ll blend her fucking blood in a smoothie for you since you’re so damn thirsty, you cheater!” Alfred was livid.

“I wasn’t cheating.”

Alfred reached his hand out, stroking Ivan’s member to find it slightly hard. “Oh? You were just slightly turned on by her? What, you prefer boobs over me?”

“Perhaps I grew excited from your mere presence?”

Alfred’s eyes sparkled. “Aw, is that true, sweetums?”

That was too easy, Ivan thought. “Of course. I would never cheat on you.”

“Good. 'Cause if there’s a next time, I’ll make their death much slower.”

“I’m sure of it. Now, what do you want to do about the agents currently surrounding us?”

“Huh?” Alfred’s ears stopped ringing, revealing the fact that women were screaming, guns were being cocked. He turned his attention away from Ivan and was met with several slightly intoxicated grunts. “Look what you’ve done!”

“If you hadn’t killed their showgirl mid-performance this probably would not have happened.”

“Shit, we were too busy last night to come up with cool names for any maneuvers!”

“Da.”

“Are you familiar with the Texas Turnpike?”

“If it’s similar to a Moscow Mule-kick, then yes.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“I have no idea what your thing is.”

“Welp, it’s now or never,” Alfred kicked Ivan’s chair back, letting the man fall while using the frame as a springboard. Guns were shot, but both he and Ivan had flipped and somersaulted away from each other. Alfred grabbed the nearest stripper and used her as a shield while he shot at the men, laughing all the while. Ivan was proceeding similarly, though using small darts and knives instead of bullets. He’d always found it more satisfying than to just shoot his foes.

Soon the sounds died down. A few screams could still be heard, but Alfred made quick work of the unaffiliated patrons and dancers, taking out his frustration with Ivan on the innocent people. He’d only wished kids were allowed in joints like this. They were always more fun to kill, he thought.

“Alfred?” Ivan was hesitant to bother the blond. While his partner seemed happy to impale some poor woman to a pulp, Ivan surveyed the room. Alfred had certainly proven himself a worthy adversary and partner during the spat. Out of the ten men, Ivan had only taken out three. As for the bystanders, that had been all Alfred.

“Yes dear?” he sang, slicking his hair back with gore. “Can I help you?”

“Er, are you still angry?”

“I’m always angry. I’m like the Incredible Hulk.”

“Didn’t the killing make you happy?”

“A little,” he sniffed. “You weren’t nice.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to be nice.”

“It’s confusing, okay?”

“I’ve gathered.”

Alfred hopped to his feet, wiping his blade on his pants. He skipped to Ivan’s side, minding his suede, of course. “Well, what do you want to do next?”

“We should get out of here before the bouncers come in.”

“Good thing this music is so loud!” Alfred grinned. “Hey, how about I show you my routine?” he gestured toward a pole.

“Very well.”

Alfred’s very involved performance only delayed them for half an hour—alright, so a bulk of that was Ivan ravishing the enticing lad on the stage. He kept things gentle, which made Alfred uncomfortable at first. Ivan was always a fan of going all-in, however, so he was adamant about being kind, even if it was excessive.

Having cleared that private room, they snuck out of the casino via the service corridors, ending up in a dark alleyway. Alfred was all set on stepping into the light when Ivan pulled him back.

“Oh, so now you’re rough about things?” Alfred smirked.

Ivan rolled his eyes. “You can’t go out right now like that. We need to find change of clothes.”

He pouted. “Why aren’t you covered in blood?”

“Because I’m more careful.”

“Well, go buy me some clothes, then! Make sure they match my shoes!”

“Give me the money, then.”

Alfred sighed, withdrawing their shared wallet. “Geez, frickin’ gold-digger. Here,” he forked over a few hundred dollar bills and rubles.

“I’ll just take it all and get the money exchanged, too.”

“Fine fine. I’ll sit all alone in this alley-way, defenseless. Cold. Tired. Cheated on.”

“For the last time I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Alfred dismissed him with a wave. “Not like I shouldn’t be used to it by now.”

Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose, holding back a groan. “We will discuss this later. I’ll be back within the hour.”

Part of Ivan knew that it’d be in his best interest to buy a reasonable outfit for his partner—he didn’t want Alfred getting even angrier at him.

But, a larger part of Ivan was just a little shit.

And so, within half an hour, he’d returned to the alleyway, bearing a bro tank that read “I heart LV”, some printed cargo shorts, and a cap. He fought the urge to snicker.

Alfred however was nowhere to be found in the alley. There was a large bloodstain, however, much larger than could have naturally dripped from Alfred’s soiled clothes. Ivan sighed.

“Boo!” Alfred’s familiar voice cut through the relative calm of the alley. With a roll of his eyes, Ivan turned his head. He would never confess to it, but he let out a slight scream at the sight.

After his heart rate returned to normal and above Alfred’s boisterous laughs, he spoke. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

“Nice suit, huh? Pawned it off a guy. All it cost was his head!”

“I was talking more about the face.” Even his strong stomach was a bit repulsed. Alfred smiled, twirling the face about his finger.

He winked. “Gorgeous isn’t it?”

Ivan groaned. “You know what? It’s not important. I will just accept the fact that my business partner is one to occasionally wear other people’s faces. It’s fine. This is my life now,” he was mumbling to himself. “Just stick in there, Ivan, maybe he’ll stop being insane.”

“That’ll never happen! Besides, I figured you’d do something shitty like buy me a touristy outfit,” he snatched the bag and rummaged through the contents. “And I was right. I thought I’d spook you a bit, too.” He tossed the face aside. Several rats were quick to arrive on the scene.

“Are we even then? Have I been punished enough for not cheating on you?”

“Almost. You just have to do one teeny-tiny thing!”

“What’s that?”

Alfred removed the clothes. “Luckily for me we’re about the same size. Strip.”

The pair emerged from the alley, the lively blonde dressed in a stylish casual dress shirt and jean combo—with impeccable navy suede shoes to boot—and the taller, slightly grumpy Russian forced into the embarrassing ensemble of his own selection.

Just why was he going along with this maniac? He could easily get rid of him. Well, perhaps “easily” wasn’t the right word. If there was anything Alfred knew how to do, it was fight. And he did seem to have amazing healing capabilities, the likes of which Ivan had never seen. It wouldn’t be smart to start anything scrappy in the alley.

But, surprisingly, he didn’t want to. Life with China and the others had been awfully boring. He hadn’t left Moscow in years, only dealing with traitors and jobs that were brought to him. Most of his kills were quite controlled, and he hadn’t had a good lay in ages.

Alfred was an absolute psychopath. But, he knew the game, and he knew how to make the most of his miserable and disgusting existence. This whirlwind had come through so unexpectedly, destroying Ivan’s entire way of life in one afternoon.

He grabbed the American’s hand, pulling the younger to his chest.

Alfred instinctively tried to jerk away, but he was quickly spun about and was left facing his partner.

Ivan connected their lips in a sweet kiss. After a few seconds of blocking the path, much to the annoyance of their fellow Las Vegas patrons, Ivan pulled away. Alfred’s cheeks revealed his embarrassment, and he nuzzled his nose in the Russian’s broad chest.

“What was that for?”

“Thank you, Fredya, for saving me from such a boring life. Please tell me you’re not mad at me anymore?”

He shook his head.

“I am glad. Now, what shall we do next to further enjoy this lovely day?”

Alfred backed away slightly, still keeping himself in Ivan’s arms. “Tony has informed me that the Bad Touch Trio is quite close to us!”

“How close?”

Alfred pointed a finger. “Right behind us!”

There was a slight moment of silence before the screams began. Ivan turned, his face looking down the barrel of a gun held by a smirking Frenchman. The passerby had cleared the area, several alerting the police of the scene.

“Bonjour America, Russia. What brings you two stateside? I’d heard that England fired you, America. Such a shame. He was always so temperamental, don’t you think?”

Alfred growled. Even though he had Ivan now, he was still bitter that England had been cheating on him with the frog, of all people. “I didn’t think you guys would be here so early. I was planning a surprise party!”

“A shame, your parties are always awesome!” Prussia laughed. He had moved so that his gun was pointed at Alfred. He and France were not directly across from each other so as not to inadvertently shoot each other. “How’d you know we were coming?” Spain appeared behind Prussia, holding a larger gun at his hip.

“Well, everyone knew! I am a bit surprised by the early arrival, I’ll admit! My man told me your flight would be at 6 AM!”

Ivan raised a brow. “Don’t you mean 6 PM, America?”

“No, AM! Just in time for dinner.”

“Moy dorogoy, you realize that AM means the morning, don’t you?”

His eyes widened. “Huh? Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well, what do you know? I guess you learn something new every day! Now I understand why I missed so many meetings!”

“What are we doing with these clowns, anyway?” Prussia interrupted the impromptu lesson on time-telling. “Spain, you get first dibs since the Don wants them dead.”

Spain nodded. “Well, he wants America dead, specifically. Although, I think he also wants Russia gone since he creeps him out.” He sniffed. “But, Lovi has been very mean to me lately. I don’t care to follow his orders at the moment.”

“Sweet! Life!” Alfred flashed a grin. “So, will you let us go?”

“Ohonhonhon… of course not. We may not kill you just yet, but you will be coming with us. Perhaps I’ll take a page out of England’s book and sell you to the richest customer. Romano doesn’t have to know that Spain is here, so maybe he’ll buy you up. And I know that Sweden is just dying to get his hands on Russia’s neck.”

“Hey, that’s my neck for grabbing!” Alfred glared. He tsked Ivan, bopping him slightly on the nose. “I will admit, you were a bit sloppy in Helsinki!”

“That was years ago. I thought you’d approve of my work.” Ivan could see the slaughter clearly in his head. The Nordic Crew tended to stick together, and after his work in Finland against the agent of the same name’s own team, he’d made an enemy of all five of them. Sweden especially was very protective of the smaller agent.

“Oh no, the work was great. But, you left too many clues about who it was. I immediately recognized the style, of course, and they deduced it soon after.”

“That was the point, I was leaving a message.”

“Reckless, I say!”

“Geez, I’d forgotten how loud you were, America,” France groaned. “And you’ve somehow brought out Russia’s talkative side. Great.” A black limo pulled up alongside them. Without another word, Alfred and Ivan were shoved inside the back seat. They sat together, across from the BTT whose weapons were trained on the pair.

“Ooh, a limo! How fancy!” Alfred scooped up a nearby bottle of scotch, taking a hearty swig of the burning liquid. “How come you didn’t get me a limo for the honeymoon?”

“We did not need a limo to go from the first floor to the fifth,” Ivan reasoned.

France laughed. “Oh? You two are married? Tres romantique!” he sighed. “I always wanted mon Angleterre to propose, but with our line of work, it is not to be.”

“He hates your guts, doesn’t he?” Prussia asked. He withdrew a beer from the fridge. “You too always fight personally as well as professionally. Your agencies are almost always at war over something.”

“It only adds to the excitement.” Alfred rolled his eyes at France’s words. Ivan’s arm pulled Alfred closer to him.

Prussia noticed Alfred’s discomfort and laughed. “Don’t worry too much, America. If it makes you feel better, England thinks you’re a better lay.”

He blushed. “That’s none of your business, and it doesn’t make me feel any better!”

Ivan chuckled. Of course, he’d figured Alfred had lied about being a virgin. The boy was too skilled in bed to be such. He didn’t mind in the slightest, but he wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to lie about it.

“And I’m sure Russia’s a better fuck than England. I’m surprised you gave up on topping. You were always going on about how 'America will never be invaded by land!’” He laughed.

Ivan mentally nodded. Ah, so Alfred had been a virgin to bottoming, at least. Not that it mattered, but perhaps that was why he had been so adamant about his virtue.

“Well of course I’d top England. I’m six-foot-two and weight two-hundred pounds! But Russia’s a giant!” The others converted the odd units in their heads.

Prussia continued his rant. “Ha, Russia, remember that one time we got it on in Dresden? You’re a lucky man, America. It’s a shame you’ll be dead soon.” He sipped his beer casually, as if his utterance hadn’t signed his death certificate.

Alfred’s grip on Ivan’s arm was like a vice. His eyes clouded over, the usual sky blue turning stormy. He turned to Ivan. “Is this true, love? You fucked Prussia?” the words were saturated with anger.

Prussia laughed. “What, you think you were his first? Adorable, really.”

It only took a second: Prussia’s head was thrown back as he chugged some beer. Before he could return his head to its resting position, he found himself completely lacking in the body part. Alfred had detached himself from Russia, kicking out the hidden blade from his shoes—the sexiness factor wasn’t the only reason he liked them so much.

The albino’s body slumped over, falling onto Spain’s lap. The bodyguard jumped at the sight, but was quick to react, shooting toward the raging bull that was America.

Ivan chose to take advantage of the chaos and lunged forward, ignoring a sharp pain in his shoulder as he wrestled the gun from France’s hands. Alfred was having better luck with Spain, successfully getting the gun out of the equation with a slap. Russia kicked the discarded gun up to his free hand, and he now had both weapons aimed at their captors.

Alfred stepped back, helping Ivan by taking one of the guns. “What do you want to do with these worms, Ivan?”

“I’d assume death is too kind?”

“Oh absolutely.”

* * *

After a fun afternoon of torture, they decided to let France and Spain go, though not before removing some rather important appendages. Ivan was surprised at Alfred’s specific request, but agreed to the treatment. It appeared Alfred was still upset after Prussia’s confession. They wrapped up the precious packages and sent them by mail, Spain’s heading to Southern Italy while France’s was on its way to London.

At dinner, Alfred was pouting as he pored over the menu. During their session he’d been quite chatty and happy, but after knocking out the screaming pair, he’d been much less so.

Ivan sighed. “Fredya, you are still mad at me for Prussia, are you not?”

He nodded.

“I won’t apologize for it. He isn’t the only one, you know.”

“Can’t believe you’d sleep with such a blabbermouth! I bet he told everyone about it, and now everyone knows about you! It’s not fair, only I should get to know those private things!” he crossed his arms. “Who else?”

Ivan blinked. “You seriously want me to tell you all of the people I’ve slept with? Why? So you can kill them?”

Alfred rolled his eyes, “No, I’m gonna send them a thank you note,” the sarcasm was evident. “Of course I’ll fucking kill them!”

“Well, there were a lot of one-night stands, prostitutes…” Alfred bristled. “Some I don’t even know their names.”

“And you call me a slut!”

“What I mean is, I only know their aliases.”

“More agents? Damn. This could be fun. You’re not holding any old flames, are you?”

“Of course not. But, shouldn’t we make this fair? You are killing all my previous lovers, why do I not get to kill England? Or the others?”

“He’s mine. If it makes you feel better I could supervise you killing yours. And it’s none of your damn business who I’ve fucked.”

Ivan rolled his eyes. “It is alright. You can have all the kills if you want.”

“Perfect. Now give me the damn names.”

“China, Prussia of course, Mexico, Finland, Turkey, the Baltic trio…”

Alfred’s eyebrow twitched. “The trio? It better not have been all at once.”

“It was not.”

“Good. Is that it?”

“It’s the ones I remember. And the ones who aren’t dead, excluding Prussia.”

“You never knew their real names?”

“Nyet.”

“That’s how England was, too, for a while. I eventually learned his real name, its helps that his family is so famous. Of course I know Canada’s name, since he’s my twin and all. Do you think this life is worth it? All the lies and deceit?”

“Are you having doubts now? You seemed quite happy to be castrating those two earlier.”

He grinned. “You’re right! Of course it’s worth it. Besides, I know your name, and you know mine. That’s all I need to be happy.”

Their waitress delayed the conversation by delivering their meals. Alfred dug in quickly. Work always made him particularly hungry.

“Your relationship with Canada… would you kill him?”

Alfred shook his head. “That’s about the only creature I couldn’t hurt myself. Now, if it was necessary for him to get hurt, I wouldn’t stop it. But, I couldn’t raise a gun to my big brother.”

“Does he feel the same way?”

He laughed. “Oh no, he hates me. He let us go the other day, but only 'cause he’s also bored. He wanted to see how I’d shake things up. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if England or the Queen ordered him to.”

Ivan was about to respond but there was a loud bang. Alfred was slumped forward, his head having slammed against the table quite hard. He poked at the younger agent’s head. He could tell he was still breathing, but he was still slightly worried.

Within a minute, the blonde’s face was no longer flush with the table. There was a slight bruise already forming on his forehead, but he bore a grin.

“What the hell was that?”

“Tony. He gave me a total trip with the amount of info, but it’s all good stuff! First, I’ve found out where England will be heading next. He’s got some dealings with Japan who’s been reassigned to Germany’s unit. He’ll be heading to Berlin first thing tomorrow morning, and so will we.”

“What do you plan to do there?”

“You still got Prussia’s head?”

Russia cringed slightly, but nodded. “We will have hard time getting your 'trophy’ through airport security.”

Alfred waved his hand, “No worries, I’ve got my own plane.”

“You still have to go through the airport’s terminal, do you not?”

“Not out here in the boonies! My landing strip is quite undetectable. It’s so close to nuclear testing facilities that it disrupts the satellites.”

Ivan was pretty sure that made no scientific sense, but he didn’t question it. “Well, in Berlin they’ll be searching us, of course.”

“It’s not a problem, let me worry about it, big guy!”

Ivan did just that.

Amazingly, landing in Berlin wasn’t too troublesome. The control tower thought nothing of the unregistered plane in its airspace and happily waved them in. A car was waiting for them on the tarmac. When Ivan asked, Alfred only said that he had some friends in the vicinity. He chose not to question it further.

Their driver took them to a quaint apartment near the heart of Berlin. Alfred claimed it was his adoptive grandparent’s home.

“I thought you had been adopted by an agency?”

“I was. My 'parents’ were agents, but they still had to maintain an air of normalcy for the neighbors. My 'grandparents’ had numerous properties that they split between Canada and I. I don’t know where his are, and vice versa. They’d been in the game too, and I guess they figured there may come a time where we had to leave each other.”

“What happened to your family?”

His eyes darkened. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Very well.”

They unpacked quickly before leaving for Germany’s supposed meeting place. Things were going quite well. They had time to stop at a café, and Alfred seemed calm, namely he wasn’t killing anyone, for which Ivan was grateful.

“Hey Ivan?”

“Da?”

“You know I love you, right?”

Ivan did not know this, nor did he believe it. Well, perhaps Alfred did love him, though he was sure the boy’s definition of love was far from appropriate.

“Now I do.”

“And you know I’d never leave you, right?”

Again, he did not, and again, he could sense the lie.

“Of course,” he replied robotically.

“Good. I don’t want you to hate me if anything happens. Or cheat on me. That’d be even worse! You can trust me!”

Ivan highly doubted that. He wouldn’t trust the blond as far as he could throw him. Well, admittedly he’d be hard-pressed to through the dense—in both senses of the word—man more than a few yards. He mentally corrected himself: more than a few meters. Damn American.

“You sound worried. Why is that?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t heard from Tony in a while. That’s usually not a good sign. He keeps me updated on dangerous things.”

“I see.”

“We’ll be fine. I trust you. It’s not like we’ll be walking into a trap, right?”

“I feel like you should not be jinxing us.”

“It just seems like we got in a bit too easily. Prussia’s agents are usually more paranoid with me.”

“Prussia? His men were your helpers?” He chuckled. “How ironic. I didn’t think you too had known each other.”

“Dude, he was my ex! Didn’t you see the sexual tension?”

His eyebrow twitched. “Oh, so you’re allowed to fuck anyone but I can’t?”

“Hey, the people I fucked were discrete about our encounters. They respected me.”

“More like feared.”

“Same thing!”

He sighed. “Whatever. You are aware of course that Prussia and Germany are quite close?”

He gasped. “Wait, what?”

“They are practically brothers. I’m sure by now his men were contacted by France and they know that he’s dead,” he sighed again. “We’re probably walking into another—”

“Not one more step,” a gruff voice sounded behind them.

“—ambush,” Russia groaned.

“Ooh, I love surprises!” Alfred cheered.

“You are the worst agent I’ve ever met.”

“But you have heard of me,” he winked. “Oh, wait, I messed up that line too!” He held his hands up in surrender. Ivan followed suit. “Howdy, Mr. Germany. How’s it hanging? Oh! England! You’re here early!”

“I’ve been here for a whole day!” the “gentleman” replied.

“Wait, isn’t it Wednesday?”

“It’s Thursday you idiot!”

“Time is so confusing!”

Germany pulled the trigger, a dart embedding itself in Alfred’s neck. He giggled at the sensation. “Russia! Stop tickling me you silly boy!” He fell over, grinning and drooling on the ground.

England glanced at Russia. “Come along now, lad. We only wanted to shut him up. If you behave we’ll keep you alive.”

“Very well.”

Entering another limo, Russia was rather calm. Canada was quick to strip him of his weapons, even finding some of his more concealed needles. Russia was impressed. Alfred was similarly frisked, his brother familiar with his more intimate hiding spots. He withdrew a ziplocked gun from an unmentionable region and tossed it out the window, not wishing to deal with the germs.

Russia glared at Germany. He had hated the man, ever since he betrayed him a few years before. The ever-stoic blond ignored him completely.

“So, what will you do with America?”

“Well, since he killed mein bruder, I would like for him to suffer. I can be creative.”

“I thought Italy was in charge of torture. His art is fantastic.”

“Feliciano’s away at the moment. It’s the Don’s birthday.” Italy and Romano were more liberal with sharing their information, as they had the Mafia and its far-reaching wallet to protect them.

Ivan smiled. “I hope he enjoys the gift we sent him. England, did you receive yours?”

He bristled. Ivan was sure that Francis had filled him in on the treatment he and Spain had received. It didn’t take a genius to figure out just what Ivan and Alfred had sent in the mail.

“It’s been many years since you’ve been so active, Russia. America’s corrupted you.”

“America corrupts everyone.”

“This is true,” England nodded solemnly. “Even in our line of work, there is some semblance of order. America is not good for us to keep around. He cannot be controlled. Always going on about independence, but he knows without the support of an agency, he can’t last. We need money and protection, a team.”

“Da, but we are a team now.”

“Look, Russia, you’re a good agent. For the sake of sanity, we cannot let Alfred live. You see that, don’t you? He’s unhinged. You got away with similar things back in the day, but we need to go about business in a more civilized fashion these days. You’ve adapted to the changes, the increased hours of desk work and analytics. He can’t. He’s only good for killing.”

“He is very good at it.”

“Of course. He’s insanely strong, and heals quickly. Those scientists, they really fucked him up.”

He nodded. “So he wasn’t lying about the genetic modifications?”

“Not at all. Even the voice inside his head is real. A prototype communication device. He’s been disconnected from the American agency for years now, of course, but someone’s hacked it. I still don’t know who it is, and it can’t be turned off.”

“So,” Russia chose to move on to the more important topic. “You will let Germany torture him, then he will die.”

“Yes,” he said calmly.

Canada sighed. “I had hoped you two would be smarter than to come here. Usually Al’s friend upstairs warns him about these things.”

“He has been a bit unreliable lately.”

The car stopped, and Ivan was roughly extracted. In a matter of minutes, both he and Alfred were tied and strung up, their limbs stretched out painfully in an X shape. They were situated in some kind of hangar, an old-fashioned plane parked nearby.

“You can join us, of course. Alfred will be dead, anyway. If you do, we won’t hurt you. We could use someone like you now that Alfred’s gone. You two have similar styles, though your work is much less…”

“Bloody?”

“That’s the word!” England smiled slightly. Alfred stirred. “Damn, that brat never responded well to tranquilizers. This would’ve killed a normal man.”

He jolted up, gasping for air. “Guys! I remember everything!”

“What do you mean?” Ivan asked.

“Roanoke, man! I know where they went!”

“Don’t be daft. We’re going to kill you, very slowly. It’s a shame you have no useful information to extract, but as a show of friendship, I’m letting Germany do what he wants with you,” England explained.

“Ooh, sounds fun!” he glanced at Ivan. “But, I’m a married man! The only one who can torture me is Russia.”

“Thank you, solnyoshko. But, I don’t think you have much say in the matter,” he watched as the German sharpened a long knife. Japan finally made an appearance, advising the larger agent on a suitable method.

“Aw man, this blows. Don’t get too excited watching me die, pooh bear! And we’ll still be married, so if you cheat on me my ghost will haunt you from beyond the grave!”

“Very well.”

He laughed. “You know, it’s Prussia’s own fault he died. That idiot picked the name of a dead nation! It’s the only reason I was able to kill him!”

“What are you going on about?” England asked, clearly bored but still curious. America’s ramblings were usually rather amusing, at the very least.

“Well, we’re all named after nations, you see? So we’re like, the personifications of them! So we can’t die, otherwise the people will die too! It’s quite simple! That’s why I killed Peter—his mission file named him Sealand, idiots. And Prussia, too. But, no matter what you do, Germany, you can’t kill the good old U.S. of A.!”

“You’re raving mad.”

“I’m right! We’ve all had terrible wounds yet always bounce back! It’s almost like magic! But it’s not, because that would be stupid.”

“Whatever. Germany, are you ready yet? I think you should start by cutting out his tongue.”

He pouted. “But you loved my tongue.” His pout shifted to a grin. “Don’t worry about a thing, Russia. We’ll be out of here in no time at all!”

“Unless Tony comes in, guns blazing, I doubt that.”

There was a sudden explosion and the constant pulsing of a semi-automatic weapon. Ivan was exasperated.

“Go Tony go!” Alfred cheered. Their captors were quick to run outside, watching as their men fell to what seemed to be a one-manned army.

“Fucking limey!” someone screamed, heard even over the battle.

With a few twists and bites, Alfred had managed to tangle himself even more. He whined. “Ah, I fucked it up! Ivan, help me!”

“Can’t we just wait for your friend?”

“Bitch-ass cunt, get your ass out here and help me!” Tony yelled.

“He needs me!” he extended his ankle which was now near Ivan’s face. “Bite my middle toe!”

“Why? Is there something in there?”

“Don’t be stupid! Just do it!”

He barely contained his eyeroll, and he gave in to the demands. With a yowl, Alfred kicked Ivan’s face back. Now Ivan was upside down, but he did notice the rope holding his left wrist was looser. He ripped free of it, making quick work of his other bindings. He helped Alfred free himself, though dropped him none-too-gently to the ground.

“Sweet, follow me!” He climbed up the side to the plane. He and Ivan stuffed themselves into the cockpit—meant for two much shorter pilots, of course. “This baby’s got a pretty nice firing system. I’ll steer, you man the gun, got it?”

Ivan didn’t respond, but Alfred started the plane anyway. He taxied the plane into the fray, and Ivan was singularly focused on taking out the numerous grunts that were bombarding Tony. The leaders of the group were nowhere in sight.

“I think our friends are gone,” he said.

“Damn cowards,” Alfred grunted. He watched with satisfaction as the last man fell. With a shout, he popped the cover up. “Sick work, Tony!”

The figure, his body completely covered with a grey fabric, flipped him off. “Fuck you, Al. I never thought I’d have to come save your ass!”

“I’m glad you did! I had no idea how to get out of this one! Have you met my husband? Ivan, this is Tony!” He gave a weak wave. “Oh! And then I’m me! Hello!”

“Charming.”

“This is really Tony? You’ve never met?” Ivan asked.

“Yup and yup! Anyway, what say you we evacuate the dancefloor?”

“What?”

“Let’s blow this pop stand!”

“What?”

“Jesus Christ, let’s go already!”

“Very well. I do not think this plane can hold the both of us for long, however. It is low on gas and we are both heavy.”

“That’s true. Hey remember when I said you could trust me, no matter what happens?”

“Da.” Alfred delivered a swift kiss, followed by a forceful shove. Ivan found himself falling toward the tarmac. Without his bulk, Alfred steered the plane down the runway. Within a minute, he was in the air.

“Bitch,” Russia spat, rubbing his chaffed wrists.

“Don’t take it too hard. Here,” he shoved an envelope into Ivan’s hand. “This is your mission. Alfred’s got some other things to take care of.”

He raised a brow. “Did he know we would be separated?” the files were meticulously compiled, with plane tickets, dossiers, and enough euros to last him a lifetime. The first ticket was bound for Italy.

“No idea, but he was prepared.”

Ivan thumbed through the files. “He wants me to take out the Mafia? Does he realize how impossible that is?”

“He’s working to make it a bit easier for you, don’t worry.”

“How?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Aren’t we partners?”

“You two are, but I’m only allied with Al. So I don’t have to tell you shit.” The much shorter man crossed his arms.

“Who do you work for anyway?”

“My army is above those of you mere humans, don’t worry about it.”

Ivan rubbed at his neck, the stress of his new life settling deep in his bones. “It is a good thing my hair was already grey before Alfred came along.” There was a short beep-beep and he turned. A vintage Volkswagen beetle shone bright yellow on the pavement. “Is this my ride?”

There was no response. He turned every which way, but Tony was gone.

“What the actual fuck is going on?”

For the next few weeks, Ivan split time between the U.S., Italy, Cuba, and Ireland, taking out numerous minor bosses and grunts amid his travels. His file led him to expertly prepared hotels, complete with spa treatments and gifts from his husband. He never knew what exactly Alfred was up to or even where he was, but he knew from the notes that he was alive—or, maybe he had just planned ridiculously far in advance.

Eventually the notes and presents disappeared, but Ivan kept working. It was a comfortable arrangement. Occasionally Tony would drop by to check up on him, but he never clued him in on Alfred’s progress; usually he’d curse the Russian out whenever he asked, his yelling along the lines of “how fucking dare you doubt the Hero!”

The last name on the list stared up at him: Don Romano. Ivan always knew it would come down to this, so he’d concocted a good enough plan so that he could successfully take out the boss. This was made much more difficult since his attacks over the last six months had alerted the man.

He started. Six months. Six months since he’d seen Alfred, about four since the last love letter had appeared. Two since his last contact with Tony. Why was he still doing this favor? He had no allegiance to the man. He could just as easily go back to old jobs or bosses, but he was determined to see this through.

And truthfully, he missed Alfred. Those few days together were better than anything he’d ever experienced in his life. The past months had been fun, the killing and dodging were exhilarating, but he knew they’d have been even better with Alfred.

He shook his head, retraining his focus on his target. In a minute or so, the bombs he’d planted at the villa would go off. Without Spain as his head of security—they’d had another falling out, it seemed—Romano was much more exposed. He watched, waiting for the bumbling guards to fall for the obvious trap.

They did, leaving only two men in Romano’s room.

Ivan took aim and fired. Make that one. His finger was quick.

Romano was alone, shivering in the room, though he was quickly joined by Ivan.

“Y-y-you!” he tried to sound brave but failed miserably. A small pistol was between them. Ivan laughed.

Bringing an unconscious Romano back to his hotel was the hardest part of the mission. Luckily the numerous staff bearing questioning glances accepted his sheepish explanation that his friend was merely passed out from alcohol. His convincing slurring added to the story.

Once inside, he tossed the man down on his bed, handcuffing him to the bedpost as per the instructions.

“Hello, Ivan,” a voice, long-since heard but not forgotten, was behind him. Ivan turned, watching as Alfred stood from the loveseat to join him. “You did well. Thank you.” His hands were soft on Ivan’s face.

Ivan grabbed the hands in his own. He had told himself that the second he saw Alfred he’d give him a good beating, but he held back. He smiled softly. “Hello Fredya. It is good to see you.”

They lost themselves for a few minutes when Alfred kissed him forcefully. Neither would break away first, both determined to convey their feelings better than the other.

Someone cleared their throat.

“Hey, bastards! Don’t fuck in front of me, just kill me!”

Alfred laughed. “Ah, Romano! Pleasant to see you too!”

“Yeah yeah, what do you two crazies want?”

“Well, to kill you of course!”

He sighed. “Whatever. It’s your fucking funeral. Feliciano will kill you. He’ll be even crueler than me.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Alfred smirked. “Ivan, babe, I wanted to give you something. He pulled out a few photos and a small box.

"What are these?” he glanced through them all. Each featured Alfred over a dead body. He recognized his ex-lovers, all dead. There were even a few extra, those he hadn’t named: whores and mothers he’d met in bars. “I see you were having fun.”

“Don’t worry, I was working too! Open the box!”

Ivan obeyed, finding two impressive gold rings. Wedding bands. Alfred smiled. “You know, since we never actually got rings.” He removed one, sliding it on Ivan’s finger with care. “Happy birthday, Ivan.”

He smiled at the sentiment, following Alfred’s lead and placing the other ring. “Thank you, Alfred. I’d ask how you knew my birthday, but you seem to know everything. What exactly were you doing to help me these past few months, though?”

“I had to break the curse!”

His smile fell. “Curse?”

“Yeah! The one protecting the personifications! It was tough, but now we can die!” He gestured to his heavily bandaged body. “Even I can’t heal as quickly. It’s wonderful!”

Ivan only nodded, not wishing to ruin the moment by questioning the validity of the boy’s theory. “Er, alright. So, would you like the honors of killing the Don?”

“Oh no! That’s all you! You’ve earned it!” He handed Ivan a needle. “Don’t hurt the face. We have to send it to Feliciano.”

“Bastards!” Romano spat. Ivan approached him slowly. The man couldn’t fight his restraints as Ivan injected the poison. The man’s eyelids fluttered shut, and he fell into a deep sleep. He never stirred again. “This seems rather humane for you.”

“I had some time to think while I was gone. Things may be a bit different.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone sane?”

Alfred smirked. “No need to ever worry about that, sweet thang! I’m just as crazy, but I can be composed, too.”

“So, what is your grand plan?”

“Well, with the Nordics out of the way—don’t look at me like that, I couldn’t very well take out Finland without all of them turning on me—we have no competition in the north. The Baltics are also out of the picture. When Feliciano becomes the Don, Germany and the others in the Germanic agency will be nothing more than hired guns for their dealings. England’s still in bed with France, but France is rather interested in Spain right now. The three of them plus Canada will be Feliciano’s opposition, as Spain still resents the Mafia, and will even more now that Romano’s dead.”

“Won’t both factions just rise against you? Meaning against us?”

“No, Spain is too stubborn. Besides, I may have clued France into some backdoor dealings Prussia had been doing in Paris up till the day he died. France has it out for the Germanics, too, now.”

“What about in the East?”

“China’s dead, so’s Hong Kong. 'Nam and Taiwan are close enough to me, these days. As is Japan. After I killed Turkey, Greece took an early retirement.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“While the silly Europeans are bickering over territory, you and I—plus Japan, Vietnam, and Taiwan—are going to take over Russia! All for the better, don’t worry. And, I’ve got some lucrative trade routes set up between us and South America. Without Mexico as the middleman and chief smuggler, we can totally have a monopoly in the Americas!”

“You do realize it won’t be so easy to take control of the Russia mafia.”

“Oh I know that! You can get us close, but then I’ll work my magic!”

“Magic?”

“No, 'my magic’. It’s what I’ve named my trusty gun.”

“You have a lot of guns.”

Alfred flexed his biceps. “None as reliable as these two, though!”

Ivan chuckled. The plan was insane. There were more holes than he could imagine, too many things could go wrong.

And yet, too many things could go right. He saw them, sitting on a beach in Mexico, smoking Cuban cigars and sipping at drinks, him a vodka-tonic—hold the tonic—and Alfred with a fruity margarita of some sort. They could be rich, fat, and happy. Better yet, they could control everything. They could rule with an iron fist and a happy trigger finger. They could grow old, train new agents—their children, almost—and retire. They could love without regrets.

He froze at the thought. Alfred smirked.

“You do realize you said that all out loud, right?” he laughed at Ivan’s stunned expression.

“It’s okay. It’ll be our little secret! But, I love you too, you big lug.” He pulled Ivan in for another kiss.

For the first time, but not the last, Ivan believed him.


End file.
